Fate of Yin and Yang

My grandfather’s name was Lin Tianjian, and in our village, he was a man of considerable ability.

In his younger years, he was an opera performer, traveling with his troupe across the land, witnessing many strange people and curious happenings. Besides singing opera, he also knew the ways of the spirit mediums; during festivals, the village temple would always invite him to preside over rituals, addressing him respectfully as the Old Immortal. But later, during a certain turbulent era, he was paraded through the streets with a tall hat of shame, his troupe’s belongings were destroyed, and even the old almanacs he’d hidden in the cracks of the latrine were dug out and burned. After that, he became a farmer.

Yet, he did not farm for long before a black Santana car arrived to take him away.

He was gone for half a month, leaving me in the care of our neighbors. When he returned, he tore down our old house, hired a construction crew, and built the only two-story red brick house in the village at the time. He even bought the sole large color television in the entire village.

Such ostentation inevitably stirred jealousy; many villagers whispered that Lin Tianjian must have made his fortune through dirty dealings. How else could he have acquired wealth so quickly?

Grandfather was easygoing, always cheerful with others. Even when people gossiped about him, he never took offense.

On the second day of the second lunar month—the Dragon Raises Its Head festival, also known as the Earth God’s Birthday—while other places paid respects to ancestors du